


Seven Things Kurt and Blaine Do on Their Couch This Summer

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1863525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Finally I get some alone time with you on the couch!” (Kurt to Blaine, 5x18)</p><p>set after 5x20 (“The Untitled Rachel Berry Project”), with no spoilers beyond</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Things Kurt and Blaine Do on Their Couch This Summer

**Author's Note:**

> I normally write fics to bookend Glee’s summer hiatus, one at the start and one at the end on a similar summery theme. This year the hiatus is lasting a lot longer than just the summer, but I’m still going to be writing bookends. Here’s the first one.
> 
> I have a thing for domestic Klaine, you will undoubtedly not be shocked to hear. I also love thinking about what it’s like for Kurt and Blaine to live together again and what this summer of transitions might be like for them. Also, I like couches, and I like that they like couch time together.
> 
> (Seriously, though, looking at the set in detail, they deserve a way nicer couch. I‘m just saying.)

1\. _Make Out_

“Mmm,” Kurt breathes out a moan as he slides his tongue against Blaine’s, his hands tightening in Blaine’s shirt.

Blaine caresses Kurt’s cheek with his thumb - Kurt’s skin just slightly rough from a day’s growth of stubble almost too fine to see but enticing to Blaine’s touch - and tips Kurt’s face up with his palm, deepening the kiss.

Kurt moans softly again, warm and happy, sliding his foot up the couch so that his thigh is against Blaine’s hip. His arms are wound around Blaine’s back, keeping him draped firmly on top of him.

Kurt feels amazing beneath Blaine, so strong and lean, so pliant and eager, caught between him and the cushions. They’re both fully dressed - in shorts and short sleeves for the warm June weather - but that doesn’t matter. Pressed this close, Blaine can still feel every line and plane of Kurt’s body, from the hardness of his chest to the hardness of his growing erection pressing against Blaine’s hip.

He’s beautiful. He’s perfect. He’s everything Blaine wants, and he wants so _much_.

With one last lingering kiss of Kurt’s mouth, Blaine dips his head to Kurt’s throat, eager for the warm scent of him and the way Kurt’s moans go breathy as Blaine works at the skin beneath his ear.

“You - oh - “ Kurt says, tipping his head back and rocking his hips up just once. “You know what that spot does to me.”

Smiling against Kurt’s jaw, Blaine says, “I do,” and goes right back to kissing him there.

“ _Oh_ ,” Kurt says, not at all a complaint. His hips roll upwards again, the motion gentle but a sure sign of the way his body is reacting to Blaine’s touch.

Blaine feels his own blood surge downwards towards his groin, and he thinks with the small part of his mind that isn’t thinking _Kurt Kurt Kurt_ that they should move things to the bedroom if they get too much more heated.

Not that it necessarily will. There’s a heady pleasure in making out, getting a little worked up and maybe even a little disheveled but not going any further. It makes the whole world seem in sharper focus after they kiss for a while. It makes Blaine feel more aware, more alive. He loves the extra touches it gets him when they’re making dinner, the way Kurt will lean longer into a stolen kiss if they pass by each other by his workspace, the way it makes every part of him that much more aware of Kurt until they finally go to bed and finish what they started.

And he just likes kissing Kurt. It’s not always about sex between them, as is great as the sex is. It’s not about getting off, although he likes that, too. It’s about Kurt. It’s about loving him. It’s about intimacy. It’s about being with him being special. It’s about being _close_ , being let in, being _his_. Kissing doesn’t have to end with coming, not every time.

But still, he thinks muzzily as Kurt turns his head so that he can get his mouth back on Blaine’s, his lips so perfect and skillful and his heart pounding beneath Blaine’s chest, they really should move to the bedroom for some privacy, because if Rachel or Santana comes in -

Blaine lets out a soft laugh at himself, only a little bittersweet, because Rachel and Santana aren’t _going_ to come in. They’re not in the city. They’re not even in the time zone. Santana is joining Mercedes on tour, and Rachel is in LA filming her pilot. Artie’s in Ohio for the summer. Sam’s in Ohio for good.

The loft is his and Kurt’s alone, the door a true barrier between themselves and the rest of the world.

It’s sad and wonderful all at once, a space of their own even as he misses the friends who used to inhabit it.

So Blaine doesn’t have to be concerned about other people in the apartment anymore. The whole past year of them taking advantage of odd minutes at home alone and trying to be quiet when their friends were around is over. It’s behind them. He and Kurt aren’t going to be interrupted kissing on the couch. No one is coming home from class or work. No one is popping over for video games or dinner.

It’s just them. They can do whatever they want.

“What?” Kurt asks against his mouth, blinking open his bright eyes and looking up at him. “Kissing me is funny now? Is the magic between us gone so soon?”

Blaine can’t help but smile at the teasing tone of Kurt’s voice, and he says without looking away, “Not even a little.”

Kurt’s eyebrows lift, his mouth turning up into a challenging grin. He runs his hands appreciately along Blaine’s back and up over his shoulders. “Maybe you should prove it to me.”

“Maybe I should.” Still smiling, Blaine lowers his mouth to Kurt’s again, kissing him and kissing him and not worrying about anything else.

 

2\. _Eat_

Standing by the kitchen table, Kurt rubs a towel over his dripping hair, trying to get the worst of the water out of it. His stomach rumbles yet again, gnawing at him like it has been for the past two hours. This is the last time he’s going to skip lunch, he tells himself, no matter how unappealing diner food seemed today in the middle of his busy, tourist-filled, overheated shift.

“The containers aren’t too soggy,” Blaine announces with relief as he unpacks them onto the coffee table. He’s already laid towels over the couch cushions so that they can sit without getting them wet or having to take the time to change before eating.

Kurt wipes off his face and runs the towel over his shirt. “Unlike us.”

Blaine sets another container of their Chinese food on the table, his own hair still somehow slicked down from the deluge, though Kurt knows it will puff up and curl as it dries. “I still can’t believe how fast that rain came. One minute it was sunny, and the next minute it was like we were being hit by a fire hose.”

“At least I wasn’t wearing anything expensive.” Kurt hangs up the towel in the bathroom and frowns down at his soaked shirt before grabbing some plates and utensils for their dinner. He’ll change later. The cooling water on his skin actually feels nice in the sticky summer heat, and he’s _really_ hungry. That was why they’d gone to pick up their meal at all; he didn’t want to wait for their unreliable delivery guy to get there when they could walk to the restaurant to get it and be back in half the time.

Blaine has all of the food laid out neatly with space for their plates and is sitting on his side of the couch when Kurt gets to him, and Kurt smiles his thanks at him. Blaine always takes the time to make a moment feel special. It’s one of the things Kurt appreciates most about him each and every day.

“They forgot the hot mustard again,” Blaine says, turning over the little bag of condiments in his hand to inspect its contents. “Three duck sauces, two soy sauces, and one packet of dried wasabi even though we didn’t order any sushi, but no mustard.”

Kurt sits down beside him and peers at the bag in his hands with a frown. “Again? I asked specifically for extra.”

Blaine lifts his head to focus back on him, his eyelashes still spiky from the rain, and says, “I know, but there isn’t any.”

Pushing himself back to his feet, Kurt says, “And this is why I started buying mustard of my own at the Asian market.” He walks back to the refrigerator on bare feet, avoiding the wet spots on the floor, and looks for the mustard in its customary place in the meat drawer, where Rachel had banished it when she had been deathly afraid she might mistake it for whatever odd soy-based smoothie mixture she was drinking on any given week to keep her voice in top shape. The demand had made no sense, but that was just how living with Rachel went; you had to give in to some of her craziness or else every minute was a living nightmare.

But the mustard isn’t there. Kurt opens the drawer a little further and peeks under the packet of prosciutto, but there’s definitely no mustard there. “Are we out?” he asks himself.

“No, I, um - I moved it last week. I forgot. It’s on the door,” Blaine says. “With the other mustards and condiments.”

Kurt sees Blaine looking over at him, his face frozen in a mask of his usual smile and his eyes just a little worried, like he thinks Kurt’s going to object to him having moved the mustard.

With a nod, Kurt takes the blame for that worry onto his own shoulders, because nine months ago he probably would have snapped at him about it and the way it was throwing Kurt’s already disordered world into further chaos, making things more difficult and less under his control. No, he _definitely_ would have snapped at him.

But faced with this situation now, that’s not how he feels at all. It’s fine, really. Things are so much easier with it being just the two of them in the loft, and the refrigerator is Blaine’s, too. The mustard can go on the door. It makes sense, and even if it didn’t the world isn’t going to end.

It’s actually kind of nice, he thinks as he pulls the jar from its new place. Something deep in his heart eases, a lingering concern somehow lessening.

It’s nice having Blaine take ownership of his home. _Their_ home. It makes Kurt feel warm inside as he stands there with that cool jar in his hand. It makes him feel settled.

It makes him feel safe, somehow, to know that this is Blaine’s home, too, that Blaine is making it his.

Besides, Kurt thinks as he turns back toward him, it only makes sense to have all of the mustards together. There’s no reason for him to object... this time.

“Great,” is Kurt’s easy reply, walking back over to the couch and sinking down beside him. He puts the mustard on the table and picks up a serving spoon as Blaine’s concern melts into relief and a quiet happiness on his face.

“Great,” Blaine says, his eyes alight, and holds out his plate so that Kurt can spoon out some rice onto it for him. The hair at the nape of his neck is beginning to curl, the dark blue polo shirt he’s wearing is streaked with rain, and despite how desperately hungry he is Kurt has to lean over and kiss him before he opens the next container of food.

It’s working, Kurt thinks with a smile against Blaine’s cool lips. They really are making it work this time.

This is _their_ life now and forever. Messy hair, forgotten mustard, unexpected rainstorms, and all.

This is all theirs.

 

3\. _Watch TV_

“No,” Kurt says, his eyes rapt on the television as his feet fall with a thud from where they were perched on the coffee table. His hands flying to his mouth, he sits forward on the couch, out of the circle of Blaine’s arm where he had been resting comfortably for the past half hour.

Blaine’s heart falls a little, because he really likes it when Kurt’s curled up against him like he is most nights, tucked against his side and in his arms, the smell and feel of him all around, but he can only spare the thought a moment of his time as he moves his arm from where he had been draping it along the back of the couch, because did Cassandra _really_ just send Pierce home?

The woman on the screen turns to the blond-haired man and looks at him with her dewy, overly made-up eyes. She takes a deep breath, the movement emphasizing her breasts spilling out of her skin-tight, sparkly dress.

Not turning away from the television, Kurt flings an arm back behind him and smacks Blaine’s leg a few times. “ _No_!” he says again in horror and delight.

Cassandra looks deeply into Tucker’s eyes, her glossy, red-painted mouth trembling with emotion.

Kurt hits Blaine’s leg a few more times and quite a bit harder. “Oh my _god_ , Blaine! Tucker! She’s picking Tucker!”

“I know,” Blaine says in utter disbelief, catching Kurt’s hand before he can do any real damage. How she could pick the slick, lying, self-centered Tucker over kind, handsome, cowboy Pierce is well beyond his comprehension, and yet that is exactly what is happening right in front of them in the show.

Kurt glances over his shoulder at him, his eyes wide with shock, and he clutches hard at Blaine’s hand. “She’s picking Tucker,” he whispers to Blaine. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know,” Blaine says again. Had he been different when the cameras hadn’t been on them? “What does she know that we don’t? Because he seems _awful_.”

“He _is_ awful. She needs professional help,” Kurt says. “And possibly glasses, because she has to be nearsighted if she’s missed all of his stupid smirking. I can’t believe she’s picking him. This is going to be a _disaster_.” His eyes go dark with excitement. “I can’t _wait_ to see what happens at the reunion special.”

Laughing in agreement, Blaine leans forward as tears of joy and what she clearly thinks is love begin to spill down Cassandra’s face. “It’s going to be unbelieveable.” He presses his shoulder against Kurt’s, their tightly linked hands on his knee and their popcorn long forgotten, and watches the reality TV train wreck unfold.

 

4\. _Play Games_

“Hmm,” Blaine says, his eyes narrowed as he looks at the cards in his hand. He’s sitting with his side toward the back of the couch, his elbow on the back cushion and one leg tucked underneath him. The air conditioning is clattering away in the background and low music is coming from Blaine’s docked phone, but even the way Blaine’s shoulders look in his shirt isn’t enough to distract Kurt from the most important thing of all: the way Blaine’s fingers are lingering on his cards.

From the other end of the couch, Kurt holds his breath as Blaine finally selects a card, and he bites back a smile as Blaine places the four of spades in the discard pile on the cushion between them.

Blaine raises his eyebrows in challenge, and Kurt lets himself savor the moment as he scoops up the four, places it neatly into his hand, and discards the king of diamonds he knows Blaine has been looking for.

Kurt lays out his hand on the cushion, the excited light in Blaine’s eyes dying as he realizes what’s happening. “Gin,” Kurt announces smugly.

Blaine sighs and drops his cards onto the discard pile. “That’s your fifth win in a row,” he says with a combination of admiration and frustration in equal measures.

“Mm,” Kurt agrees. He gathers up the cards and tidies them into a pile so that he can shuffle again. “You can’t even accuse me of hiding cards up my sleeves.” He shows off his arms, bared by the short sleeves of his shirt.

“I know,” Blaine says. His jaw edges forward into that mulish set he gets when games aren’t going his way, and his eyes don’t linger on Kurt’s arms the way they usually do, instead focusing on the cards in Kurt’s hands.

Some of the joy in Kurt’s heart over winning drains away. Blaine’s eyes were _supposed_ to linger. He was supposed to smile.

Kurt’s mind whirls for a moment. There’s no way in the world he is going to throw a card game to make Blaine feel better about the fact that he’s losing, but playing games together is supposed to be fun for them both. They’re both always going to be competitive, it’s who they are, but it still has to be _fun_.

“How about,” Kurt says slowly, shuffling the cards together as a very satisfying idea comes to him, “we up the ante a little? Change the game.” He keeps his voice pitched soft, his eyes on Blaine’s face.

“Like what?” Blaine asks, glancing up at him, his fingers picking at the edge of a cushion. “War? I guess I can’t do any worse with a game that’s totally random.”

Kurt shuffles the cards again and gathers the deck back together. “No, I want to keep playing gin.” He tips his head and smirks a little, then licks at his lower lip. “But we could make it more interesting.”

Blaine has no trouble reading his intention, and his eyebrows rise high in surprise. “Strip gin?” he asks with a hollow laugh. “You’re just saying that because you’re winning.”

“Mm,” Kurt agrees happily, swinging his foot forward to trail his toes down Blaine’s bare shin.

Narrowing his eyes, Blaine watches him for a moment, his expression growing intent and interested. “Okay,” he says with a determined nod. “Let’s start now.” And with that he tugs his shirt out of his shorts and up over his head, dropping it tidly beside the couch.

Kurt lets out a slow breath as he takes in Blaine’s bare torso, his heart speeding up at the sight of those beloved shoulders and his fingers itching to be touching the familiar musculature of his chest and abdomen. Kurt can’t help but want him. He’s always wanted him. Being together for so long hasn’t changed that at all.

He realizes with some admiration at Blaine’s gameplay that this new twist in their game might put Kurt at more of a disadvantage than he’d thought. The fewer clothes Blaine is wearing, the more likely it is Kurt will be distracted by all of that skin on display, slip up, and lose. But then, if he starts to lose his clothes _Blaine_ will be distracted and lose.

It doesn’t actually matter, Kurt reminds himself, not even trying to hide his eager smile as he begins to deal the cards and gets a grin from Blaine in return. His skin prickles with warmth and anticipation beneath the fabric of his own shirt.

No matter who takes the most hands, this way they’re both going to win.

 

5\. _Text_

Kurt’s phone chimes with an incoming text, and he flips to it from the article about great farmers’ markets in the city he was reading.

Rachel to Kurt: _I just saw Anjelica Huston!!!!!_

Sitting up a little in surprise on his side of the couch, Kurt types back an immediate reply. _What? Where? Could you see the work she’s had done? How does it look in person?_

Kurt nudges Blaine’s knees with his toes, as much as he can reach of him with them at opposite ends of the couch with their legs tangled together across the center cushions. “Rachel just met Anjelica Huston!” he says.

Blaine looks up from his own phone with interest, his thumbs still typing away. “What? Where?”

“I don’t know yet. I just asked her that.”

Rachel to Kurt: _I’m out to lunch in Beverly Hills with my producers, and when I was driving around in circles trying to find parking I saw her walking down the street. I finally had to valet. It’s so ridiculous here. Everyone has cars, but there’s never any parking._

Rolling his eyes, Kurt says, “She didn’t meet her, just saw her on the street.”

“Still, that’s exciting,” Blaine says as his phone buzzes again in his hands. “Sam says hi.”

Kurt to Rachel: _You are seriously failing me with plastic surgery stories._

“She’s in LA,” Kurt reminds Blaine. “Celebrities are everywhere. They’re like pigeons are in New York. I don’t know why she’s so excited just to see her on the sidewalk. And hello to Sam.”

Blaine types as he says, “The other day we saw Katie Couric on the street, and you couldn’t fall asleep that night you were so wound up about it.”

“Her hair was _perfect_ , Blaine,” Kurt says. “And she smiled at me. We had a moment.” His phone chimes.

Rachel to Kurt: _The guy who valeted my car had definitely had his nose done. And maybe calf implants._

Blaine shakes his head and laughs to himself. “It’s Sam’s brother’s birthday today. They’re having a bouncy house party, and Sam just turned one of them into a big slip and slide with a hose. I hope he sends me pictures.”

“I hope he has an ambulance standing by,” Kurt says, thumbing back a reply to Rachel.

Kurt to Rachel: _I want stories about people I’d recognize. Or horror stories. I’ll take any and all plastic surgery horror stories._

Twisting a little in his seat, Blaine slides his foot along Kurt’s calf in an absentminded caress. He laughs again and types on his phone.

Rachel to Kurt: _Everyone looks the same here. It’s like living in a city full of clones. I can’t wait until I’m famous enough that casting calls ask for a Rachel Berry Type, and people get nose jobs to look like ME._

Kurt to Rachel: _I thought you were against plastic surgery._

Rachel to Kurt: _For MYSELF._

Kurt reaches for his drink on the coffee table, Blaine’s warm, hair-dusted leg tickling against his ankle. It makes him sigh out in pleasure that the heat wave has broken and they can sit like this without their legs sticking together in sweaty discomfort. It’s been too hot to touch for days besides in the cool confines of the shower. Blaine’s skin is dry and soft, a little scratchy with hair in the perfect, masculine way Kurt enjoys. He lets himself savor it, just for a moment.

Yes, the temperature dropping is a very welcome change.

Letting out something that’s a cross between a laugh and a groan of dismay, Blaine says, “The water almost shorted out the motor for the bouncy house. That would have been really bad.”

Rachel to Kurt: _I mean, if other people want to follow in my shoes, who am I to stop them?_

“I think LA is making Rachel even more narcissistic,” Kurt says. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Mm,” Blaine agrees, typing furiously.

Kurt takes another sip of his ice water and flips back to his article, because one of the nice things about being on the other side of the continent from Rachel is that he can let her cycle through her own self-absorption without having to respond to every bit of it.

He scrolls down another paragraph, his eyebrows lifting when he sees how close the next farmers’ market is. It might be nice to explore somewhere new this weekend now that the subway won’t be a foul-smelling steam bath on the way there. They could find a cute brunch spot, do some shopping, try a new recipe...

He doesn’t want them to fall into a rut, after all. There’s more to life than this apartment and this neighborhood, as wonderful as they are.

Blaine laughs again, his toes curling over Kurt’s shin, and Kurt hums happily around his straw as plans form in his mind as he keeps reading.

 

6\. _Have Sex_

“Did you wear these shorts to drive me crazy today?” Blaine asks, his hands on Kurt’s ass - clad in impeccably tailored, beautifully made, entirely elegant and still somehow incredibly form-fitting and _defining_ linen shorts - as Kurt settles into a comfortable straddle on his lap and gets his mouth back on Blaine’s throat. “I’ve barely been able to think about anything but your ass all day.”

“Well, I do have an excellent ass,” Kurt murmurs, his mouth doing amazing things to the skin beneath Blaine’s ear.

Blaine squeezes the perfectly shaped muscle beneath his hands, palming down to the tops of Kurt’s thighs and then skimming back up to cup his ass again, because _god_. Whatever Kurt is doing in his summer pilates class is definitely working. He looks and feels even better than ever, although with how Blaine’s been fixated on Kurt’s trim waist and everything his shorts were showing off below it as they ran errands this morning he’s probably too wound up to be anything but biased. Kurt’s always blisteringly hot to him. There’s not really any way to rank it.

“What have you been thinking about?” Kurt asks him, tipping Blaine’s head back with fingers in his hair and kissing along his throat. The motion of his lips goes straight to Blaine’s gut, blood rushing out of his head and into his cock.

“Touching it,” Blaine tells him, squeezing again in illustration. “Seeing it. Being inside it.” He has to swallow to try to keep his voice from getting too thick. “God, Kurt. It was so embarrassing. I could barely look at that nice young mother who sold us that jam. I’ve been thinking about being inside you for _hours_.”

He feels Kurt shudder, his low moan almost lost against Blaine’s jaw.

Kurt’s next breath is shaky, and he takes a moment before he sits back a few inches, enough that his sex-dark eyes can look into Blaine’s. “Then my plan worked,” he says with a wide, giddy, almost boyish grin. His fingers stroke tenderly through the hair at the nape of Blaine’s neck.

 _Oh._ The shorts _had_ been deliberate.

Blaine can’t help but grin back, filled with so much _love_ for this man and all of the ways he likes to tease, delight, and surprise him. It’s never boring between them. It’s never anything but wonderful.

“Well,” Blaine says, getting his hands on Kurt’s waist and flipping him so that his back hits the seat of the couch with a soft thump. He smiles down at Kurt, at the bright flush on his cheeks and the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips with excitement. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

Kurt pulls Blaine down on top of him with his arms looped around Blaine’s neck, kissing him with deep promise as he lifts his knees to frame Blaine’s hips. The kiss goes on and on, their mouths wide and their tongues sliding together again and again and again. “You never do,” he pants when they’re both worked up and breathing heavily. His eyes are slow to blink open but contain nothing but happiness.

He moans again as Blaine takes over the kiss, settling his weight on Kurt’s body and rocking gently down against him. Kurt’s legs curl around his waist, his hips canting up in a way that would be absolutely perfect if they didn’t have so many frustrating layers of clothes between them. Still, it’s too much to move away, and they kiss and grind together until Blaine’s mouth is swollen, his hands are on Kurt’s sides under his now untucked shirt, his erection is throbbing, and his own skin is prickly with sweat and need.

Blaine feels Kurt’s hands at his throat and then at his back, slipping his bow tie free and then pulling Blaine’s polo shirt up over his head.

“Come on, Blaine,” Kurt says, his hands flying to the buttons of his own shirt. His mouth is red and wet, his eyes dark, his voice light and breathy. His chest is flushed as he sweeps his shirt open and off over his broad shoulders.

Blaine sits back up on his knees, reaching for the box of supplies Kurt had put on the open bookshelves behind the couch months ago now. It had felt unnecessary and risky at first with the bedroom so close by, but he’s learned since not to question Kurt’s brilliant ideas. Right now he’s glad he doesn’t have to go anywhere to have him. He’s not sure he could wait that long.

He fumbles out the lube and a condom and then hurries to catch up with removing his own shorts as Kurt, still on his back, lifts his knees up to his chest and slides out of the remainder of his clothes in a limber display of just how beautifully he’s going to bend when Blaine gets inside of him.

Blaine has to touch him before he uncaps the lube. He has to slide his hands along Kurt’s long legs, feeling the strength of his muscles and the soft scratch of his hair as Kurt folds them easily up against his chest. He has to palm Kurt’s firm ass and knead the warm skin and muscle beneath his hands. He has to pull Kurt’s cheeks apart with his thumbs, has to stroke Kurt’s thick, straining erection, has to cup his balls and thumb over his dry hole and kiss his knee and his stomach and his chest and his mouth. He has to get lost in Kurt for a few more minutes of his cock sliding against Kurt’s and then rutting lower between his cheeks in a desperate tease, their mouths fused together, Kurt’s hands pleading on his back.

He has to work himself up into a frenzy of gratitude at having all of this man before he gets the lube and begins to stretch him, watches Kurt tense for a moment and then relax, his well-defined arms draped in a hedonistic stretch over his head and his lovely eyes smiling into Blaine’s as his body opens up.

It’s not something they always want to do in either direction when there are so many pleasures of the body and heart to enjoy, but today in this minute, in this spot, in this patch of afternoon sunshine in their living room, it feels like the only option. It feels perfect.

 _Kurt_ feels perfect as Blaine gets the condom on and pushes inside. It’s not just the tight clasp around his cock that’s perfect but the way Kurt’s arms and legs are wrapped around him, the way his head is flung back in acceptance and pleasure, the way his breath comes out in a moan every time he exhales.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kurt whispers with feeling as Blaine slides in as deep as he can. He can feel Kurt’s muscles clenching around him as they get used to the pressure of Blaine’s cock, can feel Kurt’s fingers flexing into his back with the need to wait and the need to move at the same time, can feel Kurt’s heart pounding in his chest where it’s pressed against Blaine’s. Kurt’s eyes drift open again, hazy but bright on Blaine’s face. He laughs a little, the movement fluttering around Blaine’s cock and making him that more desperate. “Oh, yes. I was _so_ right about this today.”

Blaine’s laugh is mostly empty air, but he can’t help but respond to the smug joy in Kurt’s expression. “We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

Kurt leans up to press a kiss to Blaine’s lips - surprisingly chaste, given that Blaine’s buried to the hilt inside him and is about to fuck him into the couch - and wraps his arms more securely around Blaine’s neck. They’re completely entwined, Kurt’s ass snug against Blaine’s hips, Kurt’s strong thighs gripping Blaine’s sides, their faces mere inches apart.

“No,” Kurt tells him, so matter of fact and happy that Blaine’s heart twists in his chest to see him. “This is definitely the best part.”

And then, before Blaine can decide if he needs to kiss him or cry or propose to him all over again, Kurt rocks his hips back and up, back and up, fucking himself on Blaine’s cock with a breathy moan, and Blaine snaps his own hips forward, falling into his own half of their dance and leaving the rest behind for a moment.

The couch’s frame squeaks beneath them, Blaine’s knees struggling to find purchase on the unsteady surface, but Kurt gets a hand up against the table at the end of the couch and holds them both in place with his strong arm as Blaine thrusts into him again and again and again, pushing himself into Kurt with a hand on Kurt’s ass to keep him right where he wants him. And Kurt doesn’t try to take over, like he often wants to, just gives Blaine his trust and his body and lets him set the pace.

Not that Blaine ever minds Kurt taking over, but something dark and possessive inside of him flares up with pleasure at getting to have this with him right now, getting to take Kurt and give to him and _have_ him, just like this.

Blaine bends over him, picking up speed as he drives forward, sinking home again and again, right where he wants to be. Kurt’s body is hot and welcoming, wrapped around his shoulders and his hips and his cock and his heart. It feels so good to push inside him the hair on his arms stands on end. The burn in his muscles - in his thighs and stomach and own ass as he thrusts into him - feels like the absolute best kind of work, what his body was made to do.

“Oh! Oh, there!” Kurt tells him, starting to tremble in Blaine’s arms as Blaine finds just the right angle. His erection is burning hot against Blaine’s stomach, leaving a sticky trail between them. The dusting of hair on his chest tickles with sweat against Blaine’s skin. His mouth is agape with wonder and pleasure.

Blaine fucks in harder, Kurt’s body slick and open to him, his ass _perfect_ , just as perfect as Blaine had been thinking about all day, firm and strong and touchable, _his_ , and Blaine keeps his hand on it just so he can feel the muscle flex as Kurt works with him and lets him and gives everything to him.

Blaine flings out his other hand to join Kurt’s on the side table to keep from squashing Kurt’s head against it even more than it already is, and he leans down and meets Kurt’s mouth again with his own, more brushes of lips and tongues and shared gasping breath than actual kisses.

Arousal is dancing across Blaine’s skin and down his spine, his whole body focusing on the single perfect pleasure of the way Kurt’s body feels around him. His hips snap fast and hard, the muscles of his stomach and legs shake with the effort, and his erection somehow gets even harder and more insistent.

“Are you - ?” he gasps out. He blinks the sweat out of his eyes. “What do you need?” It feels so good to get lost in him, but it’s not only about his pleasure, and he can’t forget that.

Kurt looks up at him, his chest heaving with each breath and a flush burning high on his cheeks. There’s a moment where he doesn’t seem to understand, just keeps moving with Blaine’s rocking hips. Then some comprehension comes to his eyes, he reaches up to cup Blaine’s cheek with a fond, shaking hand, and says huskily but quite clearly, “I need you to keep fucking me just like that, as hard as you can.”

Blaine’s laugh is full of wild desire and unbounded love, and he presses an off-center kiss to Kurt’s mouth, hitches up Kurt’s slim hips further into his lap, pushes Kurt’s strong legs further toward his chest, the amazing, easy give of Kurt’s body for him sending sparks all the way to his scalp, and says, “I can do that.”

“I know,” Kurt says with that boyish grin again, and his next moan is loud enough to fill the room.

 

7\. _Nap_

Kurt slowly opens his eyes, blinking the loft into focus. His hair feels plastered to his forehead, his back feels stuck to the cushions, and the August sun is hot where it glares at him off of the screen of the television. The air conditioning must have gone out again today, and he hadn’t noticed it when he got back from work because he’d gone straight to the shower before collapsing on the couch with Blaine.

His bladder feels full, his mouth feels dry, and his neck has a crick in it from the throw pillow bunched up under it.

Clearly, he needs to get up.

Yet Kurt doesn’t move, just pets Blaine’s shoulder and glances down at him.

Blaine is curled around him, his head on Kurt’s chest, his forgotten book still under his hand, and his bare foot tucked sweetly between Kurt’s. His breath huffs out in gentle exhalations, not quite snores, every inch of him loose and at ease.

He’s hot, too. Kurt can see the sweat beading on the nape of his neck, making his hair curl and soaking into the collar of his shirt.

With a sigh, Kurt thinks he should probably get them _both_ up. He hadn’t meant to nap. They have plans to go out tonight with Elliott and a few of his friends, and they’ll both need to shower again and make dinner before they do. They should call the superintendent about the air conditioning, too.

But Kurt still doesn’t make himself move. Like he’s still in a dream, he can’t drum up any sense of urgency.

Instead, he gazes up at the cracked plaster of the ceiling, feels the whisper-soft brush of air from the fan whirring across the room, and watches dust motes dance and drift in the sunlight. He rubs his hand down Blaine’s back, a touch overheated under his shirt but so achingly beloved.

Kurt’s so comfortable here, on this couch, with this man. On _their_ couch. With _his_ fiancé. He doesn’t want to move at all.

Still, after a long moment, he forces himself to look down at Blaine’s hand where it rests on Kurt’s shoulder, checking the time on the watch on his wrist.

It’s only three.

They have time, and plenty of it.

With a satisfied smile, Kurt stretches his neck and closes his eyes again, letting himself be pulled back toward the contentment that’s calling him. It’s not just the sleep he could use after too many night shifts this week. It’s the weight of Blaine draped over him, the familiarity of the feel of his head on his chest and the comfort of the press of his body so near. It’s the sound of his breath and the smell of his skin. It’s being so close to him with nothing to disturb them and nothing to drive them to do anything but this. He wants it all.

They have time, and despite the sticky heat and his full bladder and the uncomfortable pillow, here on their couch with the love of his life this is the most comfortable place in the entire world.

This is home. This is happiness. This is them. This is everything.

Kurt’s not going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: I am spoiler-free for season six!


End file.
